


To Know One

by Kiranokira



Category: Hana Yori Dango | Boys Over Flowers (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Their Son Is Fine, Tsukasa Is Trying, Tsukushi Is Tired, and Amused by His Very Loud and Dramatic Father, throwback thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 16:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15912282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiranokira/pseuds/Kiranokira
Summary: The first time Tsukasa canceled an international phone conference so he could pick up Hajime from school is a family legend.





	To Know One

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Throwback Thursday!
> 
> This is a fic I wrote while at university back in 2008 as well as an updated version for 2018.
> 
> Even though I was very proud of how this fic turned out, I kept very poor track of it over the years. Like a cavalier moron, I eventually deleted the fic journal it was on, not realizing that I didn't have a copy of it because I wrote it directly into the LiveJournal entry box. I'm a dumb elbow sometimes.
> 
> Now, I could have searched my old email account for it. When LiveJournal sent me comments, it also included the body of the entry. The trouble is, I couldn't remember the title or anything about the fic other than the character names and a vague sense of happiness with its existence.
> 
> And then! Yesterday, while organizing my external hard drive from university, I came across a text file with only the fic title in it. So long-story-that-is-probably-only-miraculous-to-me made short, I found it, I read it, I still love it, and I'd like to share it again. (And this time, I'm gonna keep a damn copy.)
> 
> There's a bit of a thing going on here, though. I've posted the original (including the typo I hate and the one Japanese word that makes me cringe) written in 2008, but I was curious what I would change, so I also edited it and included the 2018 version.
> 
> Enjoy! \:D/

**2008**

Everyone knows about the time Tsukasa canceled an international phone conference so he could pick up Hajime from school.

The story goes like this:

Tsukasa often can’t find reasons to cancel person-to-person meetings, but phone calls are a bit easier. One afternoon, he has a two-hour phone conference scheduled that happens to coincide with when Hajime gets out of school. With a bit of time reorganization, Tsukasa cancels the conference and asks his chauffeur to swing by the office on his way to the school.

Once Akio pulls up at the primary academy, Tsukasa opens the door of the Aston Martin and steps out. He tucks his thumbs into the pockets of his trousers and leans on the door, scanning the crowd of small faces for one with Tsukushi’s nose and his cheekbones. The first line of cars departs with young heirs and heiresses inside, and then the second, and the third. Still no Hajime.

“Uncle Tsukasa!”

Tsukasa spends exactly three seconds looking for the source of the voice before it fuses to his leg.

“UncleTsukasaUncleTsukasaUncleTsukasaUnc leTsukasaUncleTsukasa!”

The familiar musical voice and vice-like grip belong to Soujiroh’s five-year-old Noriko, currently clinging to his leg and dwarfed by a giant neon green backpack in the shape of a pineapple.

“UncleTsukasaUncleTsukasaUncleTsukasa!”

“Noriko-chan,” he interrupts, gently tapping her on the head.

She tilts her head far back and says, “Hi,” and, “You’re big.”

Tsukasa grins. “And you will be, too.” Feeling they’ve adequately caught up, Tsukasa asks, “Have you seen Hajime?”

“Yup. He left.”

Tsukasa feels a sharp needle of panic go though his heart. “Where? When? Who did he leave with?”

Noriko shrugs. “I dunno. They were mean-looking. Hajime will be okay, though,” she assures Tsukasa quickly. “Hajime is a tough weed.”

Tsukasa feels a migraine begin to twist right behind his forehead.

“Ooh!” Noriko says, waving her arm wildly at something behind Tsukasa. “I have to go home now. Bye, Uncle Tsukasa!” She hugs Tsukasa’s leg, gives his knee a kiss and runs for the silver Rolls Royce pulled up behind the Aston Martin.

Before he realizes the movements his body is making, Tsukasa has his phone pressed to his ear. It rings and rings and rings and Tsukasa remembers that Tsukushi is at the library and her phone is probably switched off.

Cursing, Tsukasa climbs back into the Aston Martin and tells Akio, “Drive – I don’t know. Take the first turn you see and go slow down the street.”

Blank, numb panic begins to settle over him.

Hajime is the heir of Japan’s richest family.

Hajime is missing.

He’s only been out of school seven minutes! Tsukushi would say.

If she would pick up her phone.

By the third street they crawl down, Tsukasa has his thumb on the SEND button, prepared to call the company’s head of security.

Eleven minutes, Imaginary Tsukushi says offhandedly.

And then Tsukasa sees him – recognizes him just by the way he bounces when he walks.

“Pull over!” he shouts. Akio parks the car at the curb and Tsukasa jumps out before the car has stopped moving.

Tsukasa’s seven-year-old son is crossing the street with two grubby-looking brats, swinging his satchel over his head like a medieval weapon. Then one of the brats stops abruptly in the middle of the crosswalk and, falling back into a fighter’s stance, arcs his foot up and sends Hajime’s satchel soaring.

Tsukasa pardons himself for the scene he’s about to make.

 

Since Tsukushi’s graduation, she spends most mornings in the city library. There she cheerfully pores over dog-eared law textbooks, armed with a blue highlighter and a rice ball hidden in her bag. The library is a safe harbor away from the constant maelstroms of her life. At her study carrel, she is no more than Tsukushi, tough weed law graduate studying for the National Bar Exam.

The moment she hears the front doors open with a bang, though, she is –

“TSUKUSHI!”

– annoyed.

She briefly considers hiding underneath the carrel, but only long enough to recall that Tsukasa isn’t above announcing details about their honeymoon until Tsukushi surfaces. So she stands, angry and ready to yell, and immediately loses all her steam when she sees Hajime, hair tangled and uniform disheveled, practically running to keep up with Tsukasa, who has him by the wrist.

“TSUKU – ”

“SHH!” It’s no good, of course. All six of the small library’s visitors – and the granny librarian who walks around nearing closing time and gives out homemade cookies to the late-night studiers – are already glaring at her.

Tsukasa sees her and changes direction. As he approaches, he continues in a voice just as loud:

“OUR SON IS IN A GANG.”

Which is when Tsukushi decides she can never come back to this library again.

 

A ceasefire is called until they get home. Tsukasa takes the passenger seat, furious and silent, and his chauffeur is experienced and wise enough to merely nod at Tsukushi and Hajime in the backseat before easing into outbound traffic.

Hajime glances at Tsukasa in the rearview mirror to make sure he’s not looking before resting his head on Tsukushi’s arm. Exasperated, she puts her arm around him, her dirty urchin of a child, and tsk’s. He grins up at her and puts his finger to his lips.

Their home, though half the size of the original Doumyouji estate, is twice the size of anything in the area. Tsukushi can make out the white stone walls from two miles away. They start out looking like ribbon, but once the car pulls up to the gate, they’re mammoth. Hajime is asleep in Tsukushi’s lap, his soft black hair combed out by Tsukushi’s careful fingers.

He wakes up when Tsukasa’s door slams, and he gazes at Tsukushi with sleep-heavy eyes.

She taps his nose with her finger. “Ready for trouble?” she asks.

Hajime yawns and nods.

Tama greets them at the door, smirking.

“Lord Doumyouji has retired upstairs,” she tells them, leaning hard on her cane as she bows her head.

Tsukushi sighs and places her hand behind Hajime’s head. “Come on.” Even though she doesn’t know what’s going on, she suspects Tsukasa is overreacting. But she’s not about to belittle Tsukasa in front of their son. Until he says something deserving of it.

Five minutes ought to do it.

 

Hajime could make everything better with six words.

He thinks the six words as he and his mother enter the study. His father is sitting in the big red chair, his legs crossed, his elbow propped on the chair’s arm and his chin held firmly in his hand. He looks angry. So Hajime decides not to say anything until his father isn’t angry anymore.

“Tsukasa,” his mother says neutrally. “Don’t yell at him.”

Without moving, his father glares up at her.

Calmly she asks, “What happened?”

His father snorts and looks away.

“Fine,” his mother snaps. “Be a baby.” She kneels down in front of Hajime and asks, “What happened, Hajime?”

Hajime knows what happened. But what his father says happened isn’t what happened. What happens and what adults think happen aren’t the same and it’s a tricky concept that often comes up when Hajime is in trouble.

While he’s reflecting on this, his father loses patience.

“He was gone when I went to pick him up from school! I left work early to pick him up and he was gone! He left by himself!”

“Okay! He was gone, I get it!” His mother turns her attention back to Hajime. “Why did you leave? Was Akio late?”

Hajime considers this safe question, but decides it’s best to answer nonverbally and shakes his head.

His father jumps up from the chair and barks, “Tell us!”

Hajime tightens his lips to keep the six words in.

“I know why he won’t say anything – he was with a gang!”

“Shush,” his mother says dismissively. Then under her breath, “hypocrite.”

“HYPOCRITE?”

“Tsukasa – ”

“We were taking a business trip!”

In the quiet that follows, his parents stare at him.

“To the Korean barbeque place,” Hajime explains hastily. “Like how Daddy went to Korea.”

His father reacts first. “You were…eh?” His whole face is confused. Then, after Hajime nods, he collapses into his chair with an exhaled, “Uso.” He covers his face with both hands and sighs.

Hajime is worried, until he hears his mother giggling.

She’s pressing her hand over her mouth to hide the noise, but it’s obvious she’s laughing.

His father drops his hands, scowling. “Oi,” he snaps. “What’s so funny?”

His mother points at his father, then at Hajime, before dissolving into full hysterics. “He’s your twin,” she manages to get out.

His father ignores her. “Hajime,” he says, in a tight voice, “what kind of business associates were those? You could find better than that.”

His mother laughs so hard she snorts.

Hajime frowns. “They weren’t my associates,” he says patiently. “They were my bodyguards.”

When his father grins and his mother has to sit down on the arm of his chair before she falls down, Hajime gives up permanently on understanding grownups.

**2018**

The first time Tsukasa canceled an international phone conference so he could pick up Hajime from school is a family legend.

It goes like this:

It’s Tsukasa’s third year running the company, and he’s not loving certain parts of it. He’s become notorious for trying to get out of client meetings whenever he can. They make him nervous, and nervousness makes him ornery, and an ornery Doumyouji makes for bad deals and broken connections, so from his perspective it’s best to avoid them.

His secretaries don’t share that perspective. But they know better than to try and talk sense into him and so they try instead to enlist Tsukushi’s help to change his ways. To Tsukasa’s satisfaction, she tells them, “It might be better to let him build up to those over time.”

Tsukasa expects nothing less from her. Tsukushi is sublime and strong and swayed by no secretary’s wily attempts at undercutting their boss by whining to his wife.

(She does criticize him privately for making his secretaries put up with strife outside their job descriptions, though, and over time he concedes that perhaps he can try to delegate his frustrations more equally upon his staff. He _does_ have his magnanimous moments, whatever anyone wants to say about him.)

One afternoon, he’s asked to sit in on a call to Beijing, a call that will directly overlap the time Hajime gets out of school, and Tsukasa’s already promised Hajime that he’ll be the one to pick him up. It was a spur of the moment, middle-of-breakfast request from his six-year-old, and many parents might understandably write it off as an offhanded thing they could overlook. But Hajime was insistent. He doesn’t want Akio today; for the first time, he wants his papa instead.

Now, Tsukasa wouldn’t call himself a good father, but he revels in having a child. It’s still so easy to make his son smile, and there are few joys more precious to him than knowing he’s done something to make Hajime happy.

Not only that, but his kid is _cool_. He’s quieter than Tsukasa was at the same age, and he’s not as quick-tempered as either of his parents. He’s rational (for a child) and yet he always, always laughs at puns, and he loves pterodactyls and otters. He’s his own person, and Tsukasa’s not entirely sure sometimes where he came from.

“Can I tell them you’ll be sitting in?” Nakamura asks. Something about his expression must have already tipped her off, though, because her mouth is flattening into a resigned line.

Tsukasa stares her down. He’s only had control over this empire his mother built for a few years, but he’s pretty sure that if anything is going to send it crumbling to the ground, it won’t be a single missed meeting.

“No,” he says, lifting his chin with a smug smile. “I have a prior appointment.”

Nakamura bows at the proper depth and angle, but as she turns to leave, he definitely hears her murmur, “You mean ‘commitment,’ don’t you?”

Tsukasa scoffs. Commitments are for relationships. What a silly person.

Akio brings the car around to the front of the building, and Tsukasa takes pleasure in telling one of the staff seeing him off at the door, “I’m going to pick up my son from school.”

“Yes, sir!”

Beaming, he slides into the backseat of the Aston Martin and uncaps one of the bottled waters waiting for him in the cup holder. The second is for Hajime.

Hydration, as Tsukushi often says, is vital to one’s vitals.

Once Akio pulls up at Hajime’s primary academy, Tsukasa opens the door and steps out. He tucks his thumbs into the pockets of his trousers and leans on the door, scanning the crowd of small faces for one with Tsukushi’s nose and his cheekbones.

Akio circles around the front of the car and stands by Tsukasa’s side, his expression neutral but his eyes tellingly alert.

No one else in the idling line of cars emerges to greet the children, and when Hajime doesn’t appear, Tsukasa glances at Akio.

“Is there something I have to do?” he asks. “Is there a bell or something?”

Akio’s face doesn’t change. “No, sir. He usually runs out to the car and leaps into the backseat.”

Tsukasa snorts. Definitely their son.

The Great Madam Doumyouji would be horrified.

He’s gonna tell her.

“Remind me to tell my mother.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first line of cars departs with young heirs and heiresses inside. Tsukasa frowns as the Toyogawa twins barrel past him in a race to be the first one to touch the side of the BMW waiting for them.

“Where are the teachers?” Tsukasa asks. He stands up and pulls his hands from his pockets. “Shouldn’t they be bringing the kids out?”

“Would you like me to go inside and inquire after Master Hajime, sir?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Akio.”

When Nishida retired, he trained Akio himself to serve as Tsukasa’s personal secretary. Akio isn’t quite the necessary presence to Tsukasa as Nishida was to The Great Madam Witch, but he’s very good at guessing what Tsukasa wants before Tsukasa asks for it, and that has rare value in itself.

“Uncle Tsukasa!”

Tsukasa spends exactly three seconds looking for the source of the voice before it fuses to his leg.

“Uncle Tsukasa Uncle Tsukasa Uncle Tsukasa!”

The familiar musical voice and vice-like grip belong to Yuki and Soujiroh’s five-year-old, Noriko, currently clinging to his leg. A giant neon green backpack in the shape of a pineapple dwarfs her tiny body. How she’s allowed to have that when Hajime got in trouble for his Louis Vuitton briefcase Tsukasa will never know, but he suspects Yuki’s influence. She can be more frightening than any of the F4 when she wants to be, and she always chooses the strangest battles to win.

“Uncletsukasauncletsukasauncletsukasa!”

“Noriko,” he interrupts, gently tapping her on the head.

She tilts her head far back and says, “Hi,” and, “You’re big.”

Tsukasa grins at her. It’s a shame she’s two years younger than Hajime; they would have been excellent allies if they’d been in the same class.

“And you will be, too.” Feeling they’ve adequately caught up, Tsukasa asks, “Have you seen Hajime?”

“Yup. He left.”

Tsukasa feels a sharp needle of panic go through his heart. “Wha–what? Where? When? Who did he leave with?”

Noriko half-smiles like she isn’t sure whether his shift in mood is a joke or not. “I dunno,” she says. “They looked dumb and mean. But Hajime will be okay, Uncle Tsukasa. Hajime is a tough weed.”

Tsukasa feels a migraine begin to twist right behind his forehead.

“Ooh!” Noriko says, waving her arm wildly at something behind Tsukasa. “I have to go home now. Bye, Uncle Tsukasa!” She hugs Tsukasa’s leg once more, gives his knee a kiss, and runs for the silver Rolls Royce pulled up behind the Aston Martin.

Before he realizes the movements his body is making, Tsukasa has his phone pressed to his ear. It rings and rings and rings until Tsukasa remembers that Tsukushi is at the library and her phone is probably switched off.

Akio returns at a much faster clip than he left with. “The teachers don’t know where he is,” he says, his voice strained. “They say he left the classroom around ten or eleven minutes ago with two boys from the class above him.”

As Tsukasa absorbs the information, blank, numb panic begins to settle over him.

Hajime is the heir of Japan’s richest family.

Hajime is missing.

 _Relax! He’s only been out of school for ten minutes!_ Tsukushi would say.

If she would _pick up her phone._

He pulls the back door open and says, “If we don’t find him in five minutes, I’m calling the police.”

Akio says, “Yes, sir,” and takes off at a run for the driver’s side.

In the back of his mind, Tsukasa feels a tug of gratitude for his haste. Akio might be Tsukasa’s private secretary, but he’s also a constant in Hajime’s life, and it gives Tsukasa some relief to see Akio just as worried.

As Akio steers the car off of the school grounds, Tsukasa’s stomach churns with unease. Hajime and his classmates aren’t allowed to leave the gate without a guardian, just as it was for Tsukasa and the F4 when they were children—but that never stopped Tsukasa’s group from finding ways out, and it surely doesn’t stop kids today.

Three minutes later, crawling down the street and annoying people behind them who don’t matter, Tsukasa has his thumb on the SEND button, prepared to call ten people including the company’s head of security, the police, and his wife.

 _Fourteen minutes,_ Imaginary Tsukushi says. _You’re worse than your mother._

And then Tsukasa sees him—recognizes him just by the way he bounces when he walks.

“Pull over!” he shouts. Akio breaks at the curb, and Tsukasa jumps out before the car has stopped moving.

Doumyouji Hajime, heir to the Doumyouji name and fortune, is crossing the street with two grubby-looking brats, swinging his satchel over his head like a feudal weapon. Then the taller of the brats stops in the middle of the crosswalk and, falling back into a fighter’s stance, arcs his foot up, connects with the satchel midair, and sends it soaring into a tree.

Tsukasa pardons himself for the scene he’s about to make.

•

Since Tsukushi’s graduation, she spends most of her mornings in the local library of her hometown. Here she cheerfully pores over her dog-eared law textbooks, armed with a blue highlighter and an assortment of snacks hidden in her bag.

The library is a safe harbor away from the constant maelstroms of her life. She leaves the heavy mantle of Lady Doumyouji Tsukushi at the door. At her study carrel, she is no more than Tsukushi, tough weed law graduate studying for the National Bar Exam.

The moment she hears the front doors open with a bang, though, she is—

“TSUKUSHI!”

—annoyed.

She considers hiding underneath the desk for a bit, but only long enough to recall that Tsukasa isn’t above announcing details about their honeymoon until Tsukushi surfaces. She’s had enough of seeing her sex life in the tabloids, so she stands, angry and ready to yell.

…And immediately loses all her steam when she sees her son, hair tangled and uniform disheveled, practically running to keep up with Tsukasa, who has him by the wrist.

“TSUKU—!”

She makes frantic slicing motions with her arms and hisses, “SHH!” but it’s no good. Tsukasa is upset, and when he’s like this, he only has one volume.

Besides which, all six of the small library’s visitors—and the granny librarian who walks around near closing time and gives out homemade baked goods to the late-night studiers—are all glaring at her tiny ostentatious family.

Tsukasa lifts their son’s arm—displaying him as if Tsukushi can’t already see him—and bellows:

“OUR SON IS IN A GANG.”

Which is when Tsukushi decides she can never come back to this library again.

•

 

A ceasefire is agreed upon until they get home. Tsukasa takes the passenger seat, furious and silent, and Akio is wise enough to merely nod at Tsukushi and Hajime in the backseat before easing into outbound traffic.

Hajime glances at Tsukasa’s tempestuous expression in the rearview mirror to make sure he’s not looking before resting his head on Tsukushi’s arm. Exasperated, she puts her arm around him, her dirty urchin of a child, and tsk’s. He grins up at her and puts his finger to his lips.

Their home, though half the size of the original Doumyouji estate, is twice the size of anything in the area. Tsukushi can make out the white stone shape of it from quite some distance, and it soothes her to see in a way she never would have expected possible when they first moved in. Now, however large, it’s her home. It’s where her son is growing up. It’s where her husband is becoming vaguely less dramatic. Sort of.

By the time Akio slows the car to a stop, Hajime is asleep in Tsukushi’s lap, his soft black hair combed out by Tsukushi’s careful fingers.

He wakes up when Tsukasa’s door slams, and he gazes at Tsukushi with sleep-heavy eyes.

She taps his nose with her finger. “Ready for trouble?” she asks.

Hajime yawns and nods.

Reiji, their butler’s newest hire who’s barely older than Tsukushi and Tsukasa themselves, opens the door for Tsukushi and Hajime and bows.

“Welcome home, Lady Doumyouji.” He gives Hajime a solemn, secretive high five. “Welcome home, Master Hajime.”

Hajime tells him, “I’m in trouble,” with a kind of _what-can-you-do_ smile.

“That’s a shame.”

“Mm.”

Tsukushi swats the back of her son’s head, even though she’s pretty sure he gets his attitude from her.

Tama greets the two of them at the door, smirking.

“Lord Doumyouji has retired upstairs,” she tells them, leaning hard on her cane as she bows her head.

Tsukushi sighs and tugs on Hajime’s fringe. “Come on, you.” Even though she doesn’t know what’s going on, she suspects Tsukasa is overreacting. But she’s not about to belittle Tsukasa in front of their son.

Until he says something deserving of it.

…Five minutes ought to do it.

•

Hajime knows he could make everything better with six words.

He thinks the six words as he and his mother enter the study. His father is sitting in the big red chair, his legs crossed, his elbow propped on the chair’s arm and his chin held firmly in his hand. He looks angry, so Hajime decides not to say anything until his father isn’t angry anymore.

“Tsukasa,” his mother says. “Don’t yell at him.”

Without moving, his father glares up at her.

Hajime isn’t surprised when his mother doesn’t react, even though Hajime has seen that look make other people cry. “What happened?” his mother asks.

His father snorts and looks away.

“Fine,” his mother says. “Be a baby.” She kneels down in front of Hajime and asks, “What happened?”

Hajime knows what happened. But what his father says happened isn’t what happened. What happens and what adults think happen aren’t the same, and it’s a tricky concept that often comes up when Hajime is in trouble.

While he’s reflecting on this, his father loses patience.

“He was gone when I went to pick him up from school! I left work early to pick him up and he was gone! He left by himself!”

“Okay! He was gone, I get it!” His mother turns her attention back to Hajime. “Why did you leave? Were Daddy and Akio late to pick you up?”

Hajime considers this safe question, but decides it’s best to answer nonverbally and shakes his head.

His father jumps up from the chair and barks, “You snuck off school grounds without telling anyone to go off with some brat thugs!”

Hajime tightens his lips to keep the six words in.

“I know why he won’t say anything—he was with a gang!”

“Shush,” his mother says dismissively. Then, under her breath, “Hypocrite.”

“HYPOCRITE?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Have you rewritten the past for yourself? Because I’m pretty sure if I phone any single person from your kindergarten years, I could hear plenty of stories from them about—”

“We were taking a business trip!”

In the quiet that follows, his parents stare at him.

“To the Korean barbeque place,” Hajime explains. “Like how Daddy went to Korea.”

His father reacts first. “You were… _what?_ ” His whole face is confused. Then, after Hajime nods, he collapses into his chair with an exhaled, “You’re kidding.” He covers his face with both hands and sighs.

Hajime worries—the six words were supposed to fix this—until he hears his mother giggling.

She’s pressing her hand over her mouth to hide the noise, but it’s obvious she’s laughing.

His father drops his hands, revealing a tired scowl. “Oi,” he snaps. “What’s so funny?”

His mother points at his father, then at Hajime, before dissolving into full hysterics. “He’s your _twin_ ,” she manages to get out.

His father ignores this. “Hajime,” he says, in a tight voice, “what kind of business associates were those? You could find better than that.”

His mother laughs so hard she snorts.

Hajime frowns. “They weren’t my associates,” he explains. “They were my bodyguards.”

When his father grins and his mother has to sit down on the arm of his father’s chair before she falls down, Hajime gives up permanently on understanding grownups.

At least he didn’t have to explain how he got out of the school.

**Author's Note:**

> If you noticed the typo and the absurdly unnecessary Japanese word in the original, join me in shaming my past self on Twitter. :D/
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hadakanomind) | [Tumblr](http://kyashin.tumblr.com/)


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